


The Eleventh Hour on the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

by trashofalltrades



Category: DCU, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Armistice Day, Diana's thoughts, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofalltrades/pseuds/trashofalltrades
Summary: Diana reflects on the hundredth anniversary of the end of WWI





	The Eleventh Hour on the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ChimaeraKitten for beta'ing on short notice.
> 
> I felt like marking the 100th anniversary of the Armistice was something Diana would find important, though I understand that a Wonder Woman historical observance fic fills a niche interest

As soon as she awoke that morning, she could feel it. One hundred years. One hundred years since the war to end all wars.

Diana stood and walked to the window, brushing aside the curtains to let the sunlight in. A lot had happened in one hundred years. It wasn’t the war to end all wars, it wasn’t even close. The fighting didn’t even stop one hundred years ago. There were orders to be given, treaties to sign. And afterwards there had been so much other destruction, so much death. A century full of it.

But at the same time, as she looked out at the Paris morning, everything seemed peaceful. Like it was intended to be. The century had weathered so much, _too_ much, and each and every time humanity got back up and rebuilt. That’s what she had latched onto. The innovations, the technology, the art. Humanity’s determination to improve, to beat the odds.

And every single day for the past century she had still worked on rectifying the contrasts in her mind. That the same humanity that had eradicated diseases and invented the internet or rock n roll could still be the creators of such chaos. After a century she still didn’t fully understand, but she had accepted, knowing that it was her job to try and shift that ratio to the good.

As she got ready for the day, answering Louvre emails and making breakfast, she also couldn’t help but feel that one hundred years was hardly anything. Simply one long lifetime. She could still easily remember one hundred years ago—her mother’s embrace, spending time with Etta and her team, dancing with Steve in the snow.

Out of everything in the past one hundred years that was what she tried to focus on the least. As much as she wanted them all here today, to see this world, to show Steve what he had helped build, she couldn’t, and it was best to let that go. Along with closure and change, one hundred years meant that she was the last. There were no more veterans to chat with on the Armistice, no one to spark a memory. It was up to her now.

 

 

The doorbell rang as she was making her second cup of tea. Waiting outside was a delivery man, holding a box marked delicate in multiple places along with a Wayne Enterprises stamp on one side. She hastily signed for it and then retreated to the kitchen to cut it open.

Peering inside she could see a card addressed to her in Alfred’s meticulous handwriting, as well as a vase of poppies that it was attached to. She smiled, carefully setting it down on the table and opening the card.

 

 _Ms. Prince,_ it started.

_The League wanted to send a “thinking of you gift” for what I am sure is a bittersweet day. While Barry’s suggestions of many kinds of food were appreciated, the rest of us thought you’d rather prefer some flowers._

_Please know that we all have the deepest gratitude for what you did during the war, and for what you continue to do today._

_Alfred_

 

The rest of the League had signed too, some including their own, shorter messages. Smiling through her tears she went to add some water to the vase before setting it back down, making a mental note to call with her thanks later, after the memorial parade. Maybe she would even brave the cemetery.

And then? She supposed she would return to Gotham. There were preparations to be made for this next century.


End file.
